


Rebound

by sofreakinmanyfandoms



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, F/M, Rebound, Recovery, Trauma, dating but not dating, pet death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-10
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-07-29 00:53:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 8,481
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16253294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sofreakinmanyfandoms/pseuds/sofreakinmanyfandoms
Summary: If Steve had known what you would ask of him, he never would have volunteered to be your ride home. But when he’d looked in your eyes and seen the pain you were in, even with the alcohol numbing your emotions, he hadn’t been able to say no.“Is there anything I can do?” he’d asked when he got you into your apartment.You’d sunk onto your couch, head in your hands, before looking up at him with the most desperate expression he’d ever seen.“You could be my rebound.”On hiatus for an indefinite time.





	1. The Agreement

**Author's Note:**

> Steve really shouldn't promise you things when you're drunk.
> 
> Warnings: alcohol abuse, mentions of cheating, death of a pet, references to warzone violence

You slammed back the shot and hissed as it burned on the way down, immediately signaling the bartender for another.

“Getting drunk again still won’t change what happened, you know,” your best friend Wanda stated, watching you as she sipped her wine.

“No,” you replied, “but it’s a hell of a lot more fun than thinking about my cheating ex.” You slammed back your fourth shot of the night and signaled for a fifth.

“Her next one’s on me.”

You turned toward the voice and saw an attractive blond settling onto the stool to your left. You raised your glass to salute him before downing it with another grimace.

“You know, if you drank something less strong you could drink more,” he teased you as the bartender set a bottle in front of him.

You let your eyes take in his appearance. He was well-muscled, a fact shown off by his too-tight white tee and light blue jeans. A brown leather jacket hung off his shoulders just right.

“This is less strong. Only 40%. I usually go for 80,” you replied as the bartender poured you yet another shot.

“She’s determined to drink herself into the ground,” Wanda cut in with a frown.

“Some days, that’s all you can do,” the blond replied with a shrug. “I’m Steve, by the way. And you are?”

“Y/N,” you replied, kicking back the next shot. “The ever-present voice of reason is Wanda.”

There it was, the buzz that would have kicked in three shots ago if you were drinking your normal liquor. It was about time. Screw The Archer for being out of the good stuff. You’d have to talk to your brother about his bar’s horrible inventory problem, although knowing him he’d probably just forbidden his staff from serving it to you.

Four quick shots later you were ignoring Steve and Wanda conversing around you in favor of complaining to the bartender, who you were sure had started watering down your liquor.

"Come on, Scott,” you whined. “I’m not that drunk yet.”

“Take it up with your brother, sweetheart.” Scott ignored your puppy eyes and kept cleaning glasses. “He’s the one who set your limit.”

“Yeah, well, even he’d make an exception in this case.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” your brother Clint said, coming up behind you. “You’ve gotta stop this, Y/N. It’s been two weeks since you broke up with that bastard, but you’re still drinking yourself into oblivion every night.”

“Go to hell, Clint,” you muttered. At least, you thought you muttered; everything you did seemed louder than you intended, but you decided to roll with it and raised your voice even more. “I lost Danny and Brock in the same day. I have a right to not be okay!”

“Not being okay and destroying yourself do not have to go hand in hand.” Clint sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “I’m cutting you off for tonight. I’ll call you a cab. Do you need a ride, Wanda?”

She shook her head. “Pietro is picking me up in half an hour. I’m okay with waiting here.”

Your best friend and brother were conspiring against you, and if you weren’t so plastered you’d put your foot down; as it was, you could barely stand straight, and you thought attempting a stomp would probably just result in lying face down on the bar’s floor.

“You don’t need to call her a cab, Clint,” Steve said from your left. “I can give her a ride.” You’d forgotten he was there.

“You safe to drive?” Clint asked, glancing at Scott.

“Root beer only,” Scott nodded. “Nothing alcoholic.”

“Thanks man,” your brother turned to Steve. “I’d appreciate it.”

“Wait,” you slurred, your mind trying to piece things together, “you two know each other?” You shot Steve a glare. “Did he send you to keep an eye on me?”

Steve raised his hands in defense. “I had no idea you were Clint’s sister until he got here. If I were supposed to keep an eye on you, you really think I’d have bought you that shot?”

Your brow furrowed as you thought about his words. “Oh yeah, you did, didn’t you?”

Clint sighed. “Just get her out of here so she can sleep it off. And Y/N, don’t come back tomorrow. Give yourself at least one night of feeling something. You’ll never get over it if you don’t.”

“Feelings suck,” you mumbled as Steve helped you from your bar stool. You’d go along with this for now, but only because you had to. If Clint wouldn’t let you drink here tomorrow, you’d just have to hit up a liquor store somewhere. He’d come to his senses eventually. Everyone knew that you couldn’t deal with feelings; forcing them on you wouldn’t result in anything good.

\----------

You woke up in your room at Clint’s place with the familiar sensation of a hangover fogging your brain. Your hand automatically sought out the water and aspirin you kept on the nightstand, but something around your waist kept you from being able to reach them. Turning your head to the side, you saw the face of Clint’s blond friend who you vaguely remembered meeting.

“Damn it, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself, rubbing your hand across your face. “What did you get yourself into last night?”

You managed to squirm out of the man’s grasp and downed your aspirin before sneaking off to the bathroom. There would be time later to face whatever had happened; right now, you needed a very cold shower.

When you finally exited the bathroom, he was still asleep. Facing the fact that hungover you once again had to deal with drunk you’s poor decisions, you surveyed his sleeping form. His leg peeking out from under the covers still had the pant leg of his jeans around it, making the likelihood the two of you had had sex drop. His arms had been around you when you woke up, so either he was a subconscious snuggler or the two of you had been very close to each other last night.

You wracked your brain, trying to dredge up his name, but you came up empty. That ruled out calling to him to wake him up, so you opted for something a bit more physical: you reached down and shook his shoulder.

\----------

Steve felt himself being shaken awake, but the words you had said to him last night that had haunted his dreams still played through his mind. Blinking sleepily, he looked up at you and could see what you had warned him about. Hungover you did not look happy.

“Who are you and why are you in my bed?”

Well, you’d been right. “I won’t remember any of this tomorrow,” you had said. “I probably won’t even remember your name. Promise me you’ll do it anyway.” He’d reluctantly given his word, and now he had to follow through.

“My name is Steve. I’m a friend of Clint’s, and I was your ride home last night. You got kind of clingy and wouldn’t let me leave when we got here.”

“And you didn’t leave after I fell asleep?” You looked wary, and he couldn’t blame you. 

“I didn’t want to wake you.” He knew it was a lame excuse, but he’d also promised not to tell you what he’d promised to do. Last night had been rather complicated.

You blinked at him a few times and Steve could practically see the gears turning in your head.

“Can I make you breakfast?” he asked. The offer clearly surprised you.

“Um, sure, I guess?”

“Here,” he said, getting up and pulling out a water bottle from the hangover stash you’d mentioned the night before. “Drink this. Did you already take your aspirin?” You took the bottle and nodded. “Good. This will help too. I’ll get coffee going first and then make us some omelets. Does that sound good?”

Your reply was another wordless nod, and he took that as permission to exit to the kitchen. He was going to need some time to really process what he was about to do, and cooking breakfast would give him time to do that.

If Steve had known what you would ask of him, he never would have volunteered to be your ride home. But when he’d looked in your eyes and seen the pain you were in, even with the alcohol numbing your emotions, he hadn’t been able to say no.

“Is there anything I can do?” he’d asked when he got you into your apartment.

You’d sunk onto your couch, head in your hands, before looking up at him with the most desperate expression he’d ever seen.

“You could be my rebound.”

\--------------------

_**The previous night:** _

You sank into the passenger seat of Steve’s car and leaned the seat all the way back before closing your eyes. Sitting upright was not your friend right now.

Clint gripped Steve’s bicep and pulled him close before Steve could get in the driver’s side.

“Get her to talk about what happened,” he told his friend quietly. “She’ll be more willing to talk when she’s drunk than when she’s sober, and she needs to let it out. Holding it in is killing her.”

Steve nodded. “I’ll try.”

The first few minutes of the ride were quiet as Steve tried to think of how to broach the subject. He finally decided on the direct approach.

“You mentioned Danny and Brock. Who are they?”

You opened one eye and studied him as best you could for how blurry everything looked. “Danny was my best friend for twelve years. He was a pit bull I rescued as a puppy. Brock is my cheating bastard of an ex-fiancé.”

_Oh, boy, Clint, what mess did you ask me to walk into?_

“What happened?” he asked carefully.

“Danny got cancer,” you replied, closing your eye again. “By the time I found out it was too late. When I got home from having him put down, I walked in on Brock doing another woman across our kitchen counter.”

“Damn.”

You waited for Steve to continue but he didn’t.

“Yeah, I suppose that about sums it up. So since I’m incapable of processing emotion right now, I drink. Clint doesn’t think that’s healthy.”

“It really isn’t long-term,” Steve offered.

“I can’t think long-term right now. Alcohol doesn’t get my mind off what happened, but it makes me slightly less inclined to kill myself, so that’s what we’re going with right now.” Your eyes shot open and you looked at him in panic, sitting up. “Please don’t tell Clint I said that.”

His heart clenched at your admission. “He just wants to help you, you know,” he reminded you softly.

“I know,” you sighed, “but he tries to help the way he would need to be helped. I’m not him. I don’t know how to process emotions, and I don’t do healthy coping mechanisms.”

“You cope by forgetting.”

“Spoken like someone who does the same,” you replied, indirectly confirming his assumption.

“I… I was a soldier.” If he was going to do what Clint had asked and dig into what was hurting you, the least he could do was share a bit of himself in return. “I saw a lot of things over there. My best friend got his arm blown off right in front of me, and I couldn’t do anything to help. Forgetting seemed easier than processing, but it didn’t work long-term.”

“Yeah, well, when I reach a point where I can worry about long-term again I’ll consider other options.” You leaned back again. “For now, I’m only open to other options that involve forgetting.”  
Steve frowned. “You mean, like a rebound relationship?”

“Huh, I hadn’t thought of that,” you mumbled, the alcohol pulling you towards sleep. “Not that any guy would want to date my sorry ass for any reason right now, let alone just to help me get over another guy.”

“I’m sure any guy would be lucky to date you for any reason.”

\----------

Steve regretted those words as he sat next to you in Clint’s living room. You were laying out a plan for how he could make you fall for him. He found your excitement rather concerning. 

“Make breakfast in the morning. I’ll be too hungover to turn down food,” you said, adding it to the randomly ordered bullet points on your notepad. The slur in your words was getting worse the later it got, and he was wracking his brain to figure out how to get you to go to sleep.

“Y/N,” he decided using the direct approach again would probably be best, “it’s late. You need to sleep.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved off his concern and made a new bullet point. “Tomorrow’s Saturday. I can sleep as late as I need to. You should take me to the duck pond. Clint and I used to go there as kids with whatever bread we could sneak out of the house. I bet that would – Ah!”

Steve gave up on talking and scooped you up into his arms. “The list is long enough. You need to sleep.”

You looked into his eyes and giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. His heart clenched at how much happier you were now than when the two of you had arrived.

“Just promise you’ll still be here when I wake up,” you hummed into his neck. “And promise you won’t tell me you agreed to this.”

“All right,” he managed to choke out, “I promise.”

You wouldn’t let go of him, so he’d had to lay down with you. Once in bed, you immediately buried your face in his chest, and in a few minutes your steady breathing let him know you had already fallen asleep.

Why had he agreed to this? You had made him promise to date you until you were over Brock, but no longer. Yet lying here with your breath tickling his neck, he knew it wasn’t you he needed to worry about. Steve had only known you a few hours, and he was already falling for you.

The sound of Clint entering the apartment had Steve wiggling out of your grasp and going out to meet his friend.

“You’re still here?” Clint asked.

“Yeah.” Steve rubbed his hand over his face and passed Clint the notepad from the coffee table. “Y/N asked me to do something for her.”

Clint’s face went through a range of emotions before looking back up at his friend. “Steve, I know you. You’re actually thinking about doing this. I really appreciate you wanting to help her, man, but this is crazy and you can stop thinking about it right now before your self-sacrificing nobility kicks in.”

“It’s too late for that. I already promised her I’d do it.” Steve sunk into the couch with his head in his hands. “I looked in her eyes and I just couldn’t say no.”

“She’s not gonna remember this in the morning, you know,” Clint said softly, sitting down next to him. “You can leave now, forget tonight happened. Go back to pining after that pretty girl you said you saw at the bar until you finally get up the courage to introduce yourself. Y/N will never know any of this happened.”

“I already got up the courage to talk to her,” Steve replied, meeting his friend’s eyes. “I even bought her a shot. Took her back to her brother’s place. Agreed to help her get over her bastard ex.”

“Well…damn.” Clint leaned back and ran his hand through his hair. “If I’d have realized you meant Y/N, I’d have introduced you two. I never liked Brock, especially once they got engaged.” He clapped his hand on Steve’s shoulder. “Look, man, I know you both. You really don’t have to do this, but if you do…” he paused, “…I think she’ll actually fall for you. You’re a great guy. Don’t do this if you’re not sure, because honestly you’re exactly what she needs and she’s going to realize it.”

Steve gave him a small smile. “Is that your way of saying you approve?”

“Welcome to the family?”

Steve laughed. “I guess I’ll see you in the morning, then. I promised to stay the night and make breakfast in the morning.”

“Looks like I have to set one ground rule,” Clint sighed. “No more promising Y/N anything when she’s drunk.” He stood and moved towards his room. “Good night, man, and seriously – I know she’s messed up right now, but if anyone can help her get herself back, it’s you.”

It was a few minutes before Steve finally stood and made his way back to your bedroom. You had rolled over but snuggled your back against his chest as soon as he lay down.

 _Yes_ , Steve thought to himself as he drifted off, _I’m definitely already falling._


	2. The Sort-of Date

_**Back to the present:** _

As he passed through the living room on the way to the kitchen, the notepad from last night caught Steve’s eye. He quickly ripped off the page with your bullet points and stuffed it in his pocket. His promise to not tell you would be moot if you saw your list.

Digging through the fridge, he pulled out ingredients for omelets and started some bacon frying. The smell of food drew Clint out of his room.

“Man, you can stay the night here any time if your cooking tastes half as good as it smells,” he joked as he entered the kitchen.

Steve grinned back. “What do you guys like in your omelets? I found a bunch of stuff that can go in them but don’t want to put in anything you don’t like or are allergic to.”

“Neither of us has any allergies,” Clint assured him. “We’re also both ‘stuff as much in the omelet as you can and the more you can fit the better it will taste’ people. If a restaurant has ever put in it an omelet, we probably have too.”

“Good to know,” Steve laughed. “If Y/N doesn’t get out here before the first one is ready, you can help yourself. They don’t take long to cook.”

Steve was plating the second omelet when you finally stumbled out of your room.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” Clint teased around a mouthful of eggs. “I’m surprised you can already walk straight. You were pretty drunk.”

“Yeah, well, now I’m pretty hungover and not in the mood for jokes,” you replied darkly. You accepted the plate from Steve and began stuffing bacon in your mouth. The flavor made you groan with pleasure.

“I’m gonna assume that means you like it,” Steve said, sharing a look with Clint.

“I don’t know what you put on this,” you mumbled around your mouthful, “but it tastes like heaven.”

“That settles it,” Clint declared, pounding his fist on the table. “Steve, you have to move in. You can live here rent free as long as you do the cooking. I’ll even pay for the groceries.”

Steve laughed. “Unless you can fit both Bucky and me, I’ll pass. He can’t afford the rent on our place alone.”

“I’m amazed you can even afford it together. How did you get such a great deal?”

“Tony calls it a ‘Veterans’ discount.’ No way we could live there otherwise.”

“Where do you live?” You figured if he was going to make you breakfast, you might was well show a little interest in his life.

“We’ve got an apartment on one of the public floors of Stark Tower,” Steve replied, any surprise he may have felt at your choice to direct a question to him completely covered. “The three of us grew up together, and when Bucky and I got out of the army Tony offered us a great deal on a living space.”

“Huh,” you scoffed, “who knew Tony Stark had a generous side?”

“He hides it from the public, although I’m not sure why,” Steve defended his friend. “But he even designed and built Bucky’s prosthetic for free, and his company does a lot of charity work under the radar.”

You shrugged. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Clint noticed Steve’s hand shaking and cut in before the difference of perspective could change into an argument.

“Hey, bro, thanks for the breakfast. I’ve actually gotta head out now and get the bar ready for opening this afternoon.” He shot you a look as he grabbed his jacket. “Y/N, I’m sure you were too out of it last night when I told you to remember, so I’ll tell you again now – you’re banned from the bar tonight.” He held up his hand before you could protest. “No, I will not change my mind. You can handle one night off from slowly killing yourself. I’ll see you when I get off or tomorrow, depending on when you go to bed.”

Steve was the one broke the silence that had hung in the apartment for a few minutes after Clint’s departure.

“Look, I know you don’t remember much about last night, including me,” he said shyly, running a hand through his hair, “but we talked about dealing with stuff by forgetting. You don’t remember what I shared, so I’ll share it again. So we can be on equal footing or something like that.” You didn’t say anything but were still looking at him, so he took that as encouragement to continue. “I was a soldier a few years ago; my best friend and I enlisted together, ended up in the same unit. Our caravan got hit by an IED a couple weeks before we were supposed to be shipped home; he lost his arm, almost lost his life. Coming back was hard for both of us, but he did really well all things considering, probably because he got help. Me, I just buried myself in alcohol, figured if I couldn’t get the images of what it was like over there out of my head I could at least forget about them for a little while.” He paused and sighed, leaning on the counter. “I ended up in a pretty dark place. Bucky – my friend who lost his arm – he pulled me out of it, helped me learn to forget by replacing the bad memories with good ones instead of numbness. If, if you’re willing… I’d like to try to help you do the same thing.”

He paused and you took a moment to think about his offer. He was virtually as stranger to you, but Clint seemed to like him, and while your brother may have a thing for lost causes, his core friend group was solid.

“What did you have in mind?” you finally asked.

“We could just start with today, or tonight if you have stuff to do,” Steve said, tension seeming to ease from his shoulders at your not immediately negative response. “Hang out, do something you enjoy that you can focus on instead of the memories. You could pick the activity, or I could, whatever you’re comfortable with. No pressure.”

You weren’t sure if it was the relief in his eyes or the excitement in his voice that made you agree, but you soon found yourself saying goodbye with a promise to be ready for the activity of his choice in two hours. Maybe this wasn’t a bad thing, you told yourself. It might even end up being fun.

\----------

Steve stared at the list in his hands, reading over all the activities that drunk you had decided would make you fall for him. With a sigh, he reached into the cupboard over his stove and pulled out a box of matches. Holding the paper over his sink, he lit it on fire, dropping it and watching the list shrivel into ash.

He didn’t just want to be a rebound; he wanted a future with you someday. Because of that, he was going to do this on his terms. If you were going to fall for him, it would be for him, not some ideal guy you’d taught him how to be. Besides, his promise hadn’t included following the list, so he wasn’t breaking his word.

His mind searched through his memories for something to do that would make you smile without leaving you time to think about Danny or what Brock had done to you. He hopped in the shower, running through a mental list of places in the city that were fun and casual. For a moment he regretted burning the list, but he steeled his resolve. 

It was time for him to step up.

\----------

Was this a date? If it was, what were you supposed to wear? Heck, if it wasn’t, what were you supposed to wear? You stood in front of your closet mirror, a frown etched into your brow. With a sigh, you finally settled on your favorite sweater and some soft leggings. At least you could be somewhat comfortable physically if not mentally.

A knock on the apartment door brought you out of your admittedly less-than-productive thoughts. Opening it, you found Steve standing there in the same jacket he’d been wearing earlier, though he’d changed into a light blue button-down and… good grief, were those leather motorcycle pants? Either the man knew exactly how to make himself look his most attractive or he was completely oblivious to the effect he had on the straight female and gay male populations. You suspected it was the latter, which somehow made him even more attractive, and you almost hated him for it.

“Any recommendations for what jacket I wear?” you asked him, motioning him into the apartment. “You know, since I have no idea what to dress for?”

“Um, something fairly warm,” he said shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. The man would kill you with how oblivious he was before the day was over. “It’s a little chilly out and we’ll be taking my bike. Oh, and shoes you can walk in.”

That caught your attention. Mr. Innocent’s leather pants were functional, not aesthetical. “You have a bike?”

“Yeah,” he nodded, “bought her in high school and fixed her up when I got back from the war. I’ve found that just riding for a stretch of time on the highway helps clear my head pretty well.”

“Okay, then.” You grabbed one of Clint’s leather jackets from the closet (might as well wear something that would protect you if the hunk of masculine perfection turned out to be a bad driver) and slipped into your most comfortable pair of boots. “Lead the way.”

Your eyes widened at the two of you exited the building and your eyes fell on the sleek black Harley.

“When you said you had a bike, you really meant you had a bike. She’s a beauty.”

“Thanks,” he beamed, a hint of pride coming through. “I try to keep her nice.”

“You’re doing a great job from what I can tell.”

You mounted the bike behind him, wrapping your arms around his waist. Even through his clothing you could feel the flex of his abs when he shifted his weight for turns. How had you not noticed those muscles when you woke up this morning? If you couldn’t have alcohol to distract you, at least you had this specimen to keep your mind occupied.

Though you hadn’t asked where you were going, the ride was longer than you had expected. It was almost 40 minutes before Steve slowed and pulled into… a dirt parking lot. It wasn’t even gravel; it was straight up dirt with grass growing where it hadn’t been worn down by people driving over it.

“Well,” Steve said as the two of you dismounted, “we’re here.”

The sign said “Queen’s County Farm Museum,” and you fought back the urge to groan. What kind of date was this supposed to be?

“I, uh, wasn’t sure what sort of thing you’d like,” Steve said, seemly sensing your lack of enthusiasm, “but they’re doing a fall festival today. Haunted house, hayrides, live music, petting zoo – they’re even keeping their corn maze open late so people can do it in the dark.”

A fall festival with Halloween-type stuff? That… actually sounded kind of fun. You gave him a smile and linked your arm in his.

“It’s perfect. Lead the way, Steve.”

\----------

Face painting. They’d even had face painting. You laughed as you looked at Steve, his face painted like an orange striped kitten. Your own panda design was getting itchy as it dried, but you didn’t mind. You hadn’t felt this light since the early days of dating Brock.

You’d started with the hayride. A lovely elderly couple had sat next to you and the lady had told you how she and her husband had met on a hayride nearly sixty years ago. They tried to go on one every year in memory of that first meeting. It had been a really sweet story, even if her implication for you and Steve had made the two of you blush.

The pumpkin patch had been next. You’d found a pumpkin small enough you could carry it back with you, but round enough that it would still make a good jack-o-lantern. It had taken almost an hour and Steve had looked ready to smash the next pumpkin you rejected before you saw it. He’d been so relieved you’d found one that he’d almost tripped over five others on the way to pay for it.

Then you’d found the face painting, followed by a trip into the haunted house. It was geared towards kids so you didn’t think it was very scary, but Steve had definitely jumped and grabbed your hand a few times. It had been that much funnier with his face paint on.

You’d probably never admit it, but the petting zoo had been your favorite. There were two baby goats that were just the cutest things you’d ever seen and a foal that seemed to really want to eat Steve’s shirt. 

Now it was almost 9 pm and the two of you had just made it out of the corn maze. Steve was slightly freaking out because he’d stuck his hand in a spider’s web and couldn’t quite get it all off. The farm was closing for the night, so the two of you made your way back to his bike. You subtly reached out and brushed a spider off the back of his shoulder. He probably shouldn’t ever find out it was there.

The ride back was as peaceful as the wind down a highway on a bike surrounded by traffic could be. You kept your pumpkin tucked carefully under one arm, and Steve was careful around corners since you only had the other arm around his waist. At least, that’s what you assumed. (He was actually doing it because your grip tighten around him on the turns, and he was trying to draw out the time he could feel you pressed that much closer to him.)  
He dropped you off with a smile and a request to see you tomorrow evening whether Clint let you back in The Archer or not. Why not? After all, he was practically a Greek sculpture of a man and you needed something to distract you anyway.

But even as distracting as the day had been, once you were alone in your apartment the images and emotions all came back. You needed a drink and you needed it now. With a sigh, you grabbed a coat and slipped your boots back on. It was too late to buy any hard liquor, but the convenience store at the corner had beer. That would have to do.

\----------

Clint came home after a long day at the bar, ready to collapse in bed and sleep until the sun was high tomorrow. What he wasn’t ready for was the sight of you passed out on the couch, surrounded by a dozen beer bottles. He tried to unclench his jaw as he pulled out his phone and dialed Steve’s number.

“Hello?” Steve sounded like Clint had woken him up.

“The point of not letting her in the bar tonight was so she’d have a night of not drinking.”

“Huh?” The man sounded genuinely confused. “What are you talking about, Clint?”

“Y/N. I thought you were taking her out so she could have a non-alcoholic distraction?”

“I did,” Steve insisted, suddenly sounding much more awake. “There was no alcohol involved, I promise. We went to a fall festival. It was a family thing, there wasn’t even hard cider.”

 _Uh oh._ Clint sighed. “Then we have a problem…”


	3. The Relaxing Day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The two of you take some time apart to deal with your lives and spend time with the people you care about.

You awoke slowly, head pounding and eyes protesting the light that sneaked around the living room curtains. It didn’t take long for you to become aware of the intense stare coming from across the room. Clint crossed his arms as you slowly blinked at him.

“So,” he started, “you couldn’t make it even one night without drinking?”

That’s how he was gonna be, then. “Lay off,” you grumbled, slowly sitting up, “it’s just beer. It’s not like I got smashed or anything.”

“You passed out on the couch,” he pointed out. “Even when you go out drinking, you at least make it to your bed.”

You ignored the look he was giving you in favor of searching for water. “So I fell asleep watching the Late, Late Show. Big deal.” You stumbled into the kitchen and opted for a plastic cup, which turned out to be a good choice as you immediately fumbled and dropped it.

“Look, Y/N,” Clint said with a sigh, picking the cup off the floor and opening the fridge to pull out the pitcher, “if you can’t keep yourself from drinking, this situation has gone way past unhealthy and into dangerous. I can’t let you do that to yourself.”

“Screw you,” you mumbled, accepting the full cup back. “I’m not an alcoholic.”

“Then let’s spend the night in,” he offered. “It’s my night off; Scott’s got everything covered. Let’s watch movies and eat pizza and just hang out, no alcohol involved.”

“Fine,” you sighed. It had been a while since you’d just hung out with your brother, and it did sound like fun. “But no horror movies and I get to pick the first one.”

“Deal.” Clint shot you a smile and his tone turned teasing. “Now spill. I wanna hear all about your date yesterday.”

\---------- 

If Steve were honest with himself, he’d admit that he checked every text he received so quickly because he was hoping it would be from you. He wasn’t being honest with himself, though, so he kept telling himself it was because his job was particularly slow and boring that day. That didn’t keep his heart from speeding up when he finally saw your name pop up on the notification.

**Spending the day hanging out with Clint. Can we move our second date to tomorrow?**

He blinked at his phone. You spending time with your brother was a good thing. It would help, right? So why was he suddenly jealous of Clint?

_Man, Rogers, you really have got it bad._

“Hey, Steve.”

He was brought out of his thoughts by a knock on his door and Pepper ducking her head into his office. Steve shot his boss a smile.

“Hey, Pep. What can I do for you?”

She stepped fully into the room and shut the door behind her. “Tony’s holed up in his lab again. I tried to get him out but he insists that he’s almost figured out a new improvement for James’s arm. I was hoping maybe you and James could try to get him to at least take a break to eat something? It’s been at least forty-eight hours since he’s had anything other than coffee and dried fruit.”

“Of course we can try, but no promises.” Steve sighed as he saved his current work and shut down the program. “Bucky doesn’t blame him for what happened because it wasn’t his fault, but neither of us seem to be able to get through to him.”

“You get through more than you realize,” she told him with a soft smile. “Especially James. It helps, Steve, it really does. I’ll have the food waiting on a tray outside the lab when the two of you get there.”

“Thanks, Pepper,” Steve said, returning her smile. “We’ll talk to him.”

He shot a quick affirmative text to you before sending one to Bucky as he hopped into the elevator and pressed the button for their floor. Maybe he’d see it and maybe he wouldn’t, but if he did it would be a little more warning before Steve dragged him to the lab.

Bucky did see it. He was pulling on a shirt as Steve opened the door to their apartment.

“Yeah, punk, I got your message.” He grabbed the half-finished pop tart from the counter and shoved it all in his mouth at once. “Mflts gmm.”

Steve shot him a look. “Don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He swallowed his large bite and shot his friend a smirk. “Sorry, Ma.”

The two of them made their way up to Tony’s lab. When they arrived Bucky took the lead, punching in his access code and calling out a hello as he entered. Steve grabbed the tray of food that was right where Pepper had said it would be and followed the brunet into the room.

“Hey, Tony, Pep said you haven’t been eating,” Bucky said in a tone of practiced cheer. “But see, the thing is, food is important for your brain to work well. So’s sleep and water, but we’re on the topic of food at the moment, so that’s what we’ll focus on for now. You’ve got a really smart brain and it needs fuel, so why don’t you come join us and the three of us can eat together?”

Tony didn’t even look up from where he was bending over a nearly identical replica of Bucky’s prosthetic.

“I just had some blueberries, thanks though. Need to finish these adjustments and that should improve your arm’s strength and mobility by fifteen percent. It’ll be even better once JARVIS finishes the new alloy calculations, but the current alloy can’t handle the pressure of more than –”

“Tony,” Steve cut in, “it’ll still be there when you go back to it. Come on, take a little time with friends who care.”

The genius made a rather undignified squeak of protest when Bucky stole his tools from his hand.

“Hey, I’m not done with those.”

“Of course you aren’t,” Bucky placated, “but for now you’re going to eat with us anyway. You can have them back after.”

Tony glared at both of them. “I’m only conceding because I’m not dumb enough to think I could take on either of you alone, much less together, and I’m fully aware Barnes is going to play keep-away until you’re both satisfied.”

“Smart move,” Bucky said smugly as he tucked the tools behind him. “Sit. Eat. Tell us about your day.”

“It’s been a day,” Tony snorted. “Fridays aren’t that special, no matter what the average American seems to think.”

“Uh, Tony,” Steve shared a look with Bucky, “it’s Monday.”

The genius blinked a few times, looking back and forth between them to see if they were serious.

“Oh.”

“See,” Bucky opted for a teasing tone, “I told you. Food is important for your brain. Ignore it and suddenly you’re missing things like whole weekends.”

“It’s been a bit of a blur,” Tony admitted, picking up one of the sandwiches from the tray. “I just got the idea for how to make your arm better, and I had to figure it out. I guess it’s taking longer than I realized.”

“Tony, I appreciate how much you care about making sure my arm works perfectly,” Bucky leaned forward with a serious expression, elbows resting on his knees and eyes locked on his friend, “but I need you to know that it’s already capable of more than I am. It’s more than strong enough for the odd construction jobs I get, and it can move as fast as I can think. You’ve already given me more than I could have ever hoped for.”

Tony bit his lip and stared at the floor. “It isn’t enough. It will never be enough.”

“I think,” Bucky said, bracing his metal hand on his friend’s shoulder, “that I ought to have a good idea of what I need. It’s more than enough, Tony. Hell, you’ve revolutionized prosthetic technology and it’ll make millions of lives better. That right there? That makes everything that happened worth it to me.”

Avoiding Bucky’s gaze, Tony locked eyes with Steve. “How did he end up the well-adjusted one of the three of us?”

“Hell if I know,” Steve smiled softly. “He’s right, though. You don’t owe either of us anything, so please don’t destroy your health because of misplaced guilt.”

“I’m not going to win this argument so I’m going to ignore that statement until the two of you have to leave.”

Bucky looked at Steve. “I’m free the rest of the day.”

“My date got moved to tomorrow,” Steve added with a nod, “and I’m pretty sure my boss gave me the rest of the day off, so we’re not going anywhere.”

“Finish at least one sandwich,” Bucky said with a smirk, “and I’ll let you mess with my actual arm while Steve explains when he started dating and why he didn’t tell us.”

The two of them laughed when Tony immediately stuffed the whole end of the sandwich into his mouth and bit down. He winked at them, his cheeks stuffed like a chipmunk and a smile threatening to send his food spilling out of his mouth.

 _Not the way I thought I’d spend the rest of the day_ , Steve thought, _but not bad. Not bad at all._

\----------

“I thought we were going to watch movies all day?” you teased as the popcorn kernel you threw bounced off your brother’s forehead.

“It’s Dog Cops,” he stated, his expression clearly indicating that fact should be a reason on its own. “The latest episode. We watch it every week.”

“Yeah,” you conceded with a grin, “but we were in the middle of our marathon.”

“Dog Cops first. End of marathon second.” Clint nodded and flopped back down on the couch, whining in protest when you moved the popcorn out of his reach.

“You know,” you said, caving and passing him the nearly empty bowl, “it’s late enough we should probably have dinner.”

Clint grinned at you. “All right then. Dog Cops first, dinner second, and end of marathon third.”

You laughed and hit him with a throw pillow as the episode started. It had been too long since the two of you had last spent much time together. You’d missed this.

\----------

Steve paused as he exited the kitchen with the next round of drinks and smiled at the sight in front of him. Bucky and Tony were both intensely focused on their game of chess. From what Steve could tell, it looked like they were pretty well matched; Tony might be a genius, but Bucky had a good head for strategy and tactics.

“I’ve got you on the run now, Buckaroo,” Tony crowed as he made his move. “Let’s see you get out of that. Check!”

Bucky smiled and made his move, taking himself out of check. “Checkmate.”

The look on Tony’s face had both former soldiers laughing as Steve passed the others their beers and cracked open his coke.

“I should have seen that,” Tony grumbled, although the smile peeking through ruined his attempted pout.

“Yeah,” Bucky agreed with a smirk, “you should have. But being human is okay. We don’t always see stuff coming.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” The genius tipped back his beer and took a large gulp before turning to Steve and nodding at his definitely non-alcoholic drink. “So how long has it been now? Coming up on a year, right?”

The blond nodded. “I get my one year coin next week.”

Bucky clapped his friend’s shoulder. “That’s my man. Sam doesn’t give me details of course, but he did say he’s really proud of how far you’ve come.”

“Thanks.” Steve took a sip from his soda can. “So, speaking of coming far…”

“Oh, no,” Tony cut in, “not this again. I have neither the time nor the inclination to go to therapy.” He took another swallow. “Besides, what I went through was nothing compared to the years you guys spent over there.”

“Neither of us were ever tortured as prisoners of war,” Bucky pointed out. “Besides, you know full well that trauma doesn’t work like that. Trauma is trauma, and different people go through different amounts of it but still come out just as messed up. Most people would assume I went through more trauma than Stevie did because I lost an arm, but we all know how well he handled everything before the intervention.” He leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “Look, Tony, we care about you. We care how you’re doing, and from where we’re sitting, it doesn’t look like you’re doing that great.” Bucky held up a hand before the man could interrupt. “Functioning and doing well are two different things, and you know that.”

“Besides,” Steve added wryly, “as long as Pepper has to ask us for help to get you to eat the argument can be made that you aren’t really functioning, either.”

“Tony,” Bucky said softly, reaching out rest his hand on his friend’s leg, “I know you don’t open up to people easily. All we’re asking you to do is think about it – really think about it, not just say you will to get us off your back. Sam can recommend someone good, and we can take steps to make sure the media doesn’t get wind of it. Hell, I could go with you every time and if anyone asks we can say you’re taking me to my therapy. Just don’t dismiss it because it’s outside your comfort zone.”

“Fine, I’ll think about it.” Tony gave them both a fond look. “Only because I know you mean well. Just be prepared for the list of reasons I’ll come up with for why I say no.”

“Already have,” Bucky grinned. “I’ve already got my counter arguments prepped, too.”

The three of them laughed, and the conversation moved on to other topics. Steve was mostly quiet all evening, watching his friends interact and occasionally wondering how your evening was going.

\----------

“That was my wonton!” you screeched, beating your brother with a throw pillow. “Stop stealing my food!”

Clint was doubled over laughing, holding his hands up to protect his face from the onslaught. “You left it unguarded. You should know better than to do that by now.”

“It was on a plate in my lap! That is _not_ unguarded!”

“You snooze, you lose!”

“ _I was eating off that plate, you thief!_ ”

He finally wrestled the pillow away from you, nearly kicking over the Pho on the floor by his feet. “Fine. You can have one of my Crab Rangoon. Happy?”

“No.” You reached out with your chopsticks and snatched one out of its takeout container. “But I am satisfied for now. Don’t do it again.”

“I will absolutely do it again next time you order them. You know I have a weakness for shrimp wontons.”

“Of course you will. Now hush. The next movie’s about to start.”

\----------

Bucky pulled the blanket off the back of the couch and tucked it around a sleeping Tony.

“What do you think, Stevie?” he whispered. “Will he’ll ever accept it wasn’t his fault?”

Steve looked down on their sleeping friend with a sigh. “Honestly? I don’t know, but I’d like to think we’re getting through.” He clapped a hand to Bucky’s shoulder. “You especially. I’m really proud of you, Buck. Not many people would come through what you did so well-adjusted.”

“Aw, hell Stevie, you remember what it was like when we first got back. We had enough PTSD between the two of us for a whole unit. I just had more people pushing me to get help sooner because I had an obvious wound along with the mental ones. You guys are the ones who have really had to fight to get better.”

“I’m still proud of you.”

“Thanks. I’m proud of you too, punk. Now let’s get Tony to where we can be proud of him, too.”

\----------

You glanced back towards your brother’s bedroom door as you slipped out of your apartment. He’d crashed just early enough that if you could get to the liquor store quickly you could get the good stuff instead of having to settle for beer again. Not that you needed alcohol; you just wanted something to relax you, help you sleep. That’s all it was.

The obnoxious sound of the ringtone your brother had set for you when he’d gotten you your phone last Christmas went off as you made your way out of your building. A glance at the screen showed it was Steve calling, and with a smile you swiped to answer.

“Hey, handsome, wasn’t expecting to hear from you tonight.”

“Hey yourself, beautiful.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I hope I’m not calling too late?”

“Nah, I’d have ignored or slept through it if you were. What’s up?”

“Just finished an afternoon and evening with a couple of friends. How about you?”

“Spent the day with Clint, eating takeout and marathoning the Dark Knight trilogy with a brief break for Dog Cops. It was nice; we haven’t done that in a while. I am looking forward to our date tomorrow, though.”

“So am I.” Steve’s tone was warm. “Speaking of, I was wondering if there was anything specific you’d like to do? The weather is supposed to be rather wet, so my outdoor activity probably won’t be practical.”

You laughed. “Aw, come on Rogers, letting a little weather get to you? Hmm, Clint mentioned you like art. How about we go to your favorite museum?”

“That’s a dangerous offer, doll. I’m not sure if you’re ready to see me at that level of nerding out.”

“Try me.”

“Okay, but remember you asked for it.”

You said your goodnights and hung up just as you arrived at the store with five minutes to spare. Good thing you knew the exact location of what you wanted. In just a couple of minutes, you had your purchase and were on your way back home.

Maybe between the anticipation of tomorrow and a little help from a bottle you could sleep without seeing your bastard ex nailing another woman into your mattress...


End file.
